3:58 A Fraction of Time
by Autumn Harvest
Summary: Sometimes, memories are left best forgotten...


3:58  
  
Two minutes until the hour.  
  
3:59  
  
It is still dark out.  
  
One minute since I woke from my dream -  
  
4:00  
  
As I lay here, staring at the angry glare of red lights, I feel as though something is different. The world has not shed any new light upon my existence, so it is not a state of enlightment which clings. How foolish would anyone find me lying in a vegetated state, drenched in sweat as I stare at my clock?  
  
4:01  
  
When have I woken last from a dream, without my hands sore and sheets twisted? Although it is an indecent hour to be awake, I cannot help but feel the time pass as I continue to look on. The darkness between night and morning is nothing when compared to the oppressive red numbers of time.  
  
4:02  
  
Four minutes since I have last awaken. 240 seconds. It feels like an eternity that I have spent, as I watch the digits flicker in a sort of twisted fascination. What makes things go, I wonder? What causes the body to function and the heart to beat? Am I the creator of my own dreams, or is there some sort of sick, twisted thing that takes pleasure of robbing me of my rest? If I could find the source of this madness, I would gladly strip down to the core of my being to be rid of that which plagues my dreams. Perhaps it is I, who holds myself prisoner.  
  
4:07  
  
When have I had dreams last? The pleasant kind, which wakes a child from his dreams and mars his face with a smile? Nothing of that sort has graced me with its presence. Every night that I close my eyes, the flashes of what once haunted me claw at my arms and legs, and reaches to grasp my face between its cold, bony fingers, struggling to tear through my skin and into my mind -  
  
4:10  
  
Another minute has passed.  
  
What once haunted me? I've fed myself so many lies. I still cannot break the spell between my life, and my dreams. There is a kind of thread that weaves the two together, but separates them all the same. For this, I am thankful -  
  
4:11  
  
- but a dog can only obey so much when being kicked and slapped. A dog must not have horrifying dreams where no matter how fast you run or how high you climb, you can never be rid of the guilt that poisons you from the inside and creeps outward, spreading throughout your entire being to ascend up your throat and leave the rotten taste of bile in your mouth after you've wretched away what you thought to be what ails your body but you find that you cannot be rid of the grotesque things you have done nor extract it from your mind no matter what you do or say or feel as you find yourself walking along the edge of -  
  
4:21  
  
Quite some time has passed since I last recognized the characters of my clock.  
  
Time is slow.  
  
Time is constant.  
  
Time is ever changing.  
  
Wishing for the time to go by is like wishing the moment would stay the same; it does not matter, for it runs at the pace it wishes. If the seconds were to speed, we would never know it to be fast. As time may drag and lengthen, the moments would compile into a series of memories.  
  
4:22  
  
Memories to movies; photos to moments.  
  
A library of images exist in my mind, all tapped and ready for viewing. The movie plays; it's all very clear. They are vivid as the moment I felt them, experienced them... as I made them into a reality -  
  
4:23  
  
They're now trapped as I dream. The film catches in my mind, as I see the images play over and over again... two hours before the event, two minutes until their hand, two second until I -  
  
-:--  
  
The power has gone out.  
  
Gone are the red lights lights which have flickered out and vanished. I close my eyes, as the tension of my struggle has ceased for an instant, and the hands relinquish their hold on my soul. The clock before me blurs, as I dimly wonder where all the poison has gone, draining from my existence as the room becomes darker with the color of red gone, gone from my sight and my mind...  
  
And my memories shift from a bright, red color to a subtle shade of gray... withering away to a desolate dark color... whispering with its seductive voice, and the twinkling of red stars deep in the distance...  
  
I reach to the space before me to find that my hand encloses around air...  
  
Just for a fraction of time.  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  
Okay, I know I left out who the person was on purpose but... I just wanted to see who you all thought it was! This piece was originally posted under my original series of shorts "In the Blink of an Eye: Imperfect Collection" (hehe, if you liked this, check out my other fic which I've just plugged! ^_^) but I thought that it would fit better under the fanfiction category... what did you all think? Would you like me to continue this? I'm thinking I may or may not ... but I guess it all depends on how many clicks of the button I get! ^_^  
  
Thanks again for reading!  
  
Neko 


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